


I Will Fear the Night Again

by iktwabrokenbone (apiculteur)



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiculteur/pseuds/iktwabrokenbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, music is enough to subdue the bad thoughts in Tyler's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Fear the Night Again

**Author's Note:**

> written for this anon prompt:  
> hello! Can I prompt you here? Can you please write a "usually writing and performing songs is enough to calm these thoughts down but it isn't working this time" thing where like tyler is basically hiding out in his bunk because like that didn't work and basically just a bunch of josh having to go find tyler to comfort him? idk if that makes sense but yeah haha thank you! i love your writing btw :)
> 
> title from truce

Practice had been full of slipping fingers and sharp mistakes. Truce sounded harsh when it was filled with horribly discordant notes, and it took Tyler a while to get his head wrapped around it. He wasn't sinking into the music today. It wasn't all he could hear. He was too aware of the pattern of his blinking, his slow drags of breath, his voice bouncing back when he sung into the mic.

During the show, the screams were too loud for him to focus on those things. He played well, his only slip up during Run and Go, when people were too busy singing along and trying to climb onto each other's shoulders to notice or care. But it was not submersion. It was not distraction. It was music, and he managed to fall into it for the show, but the songs didn't relieve the ache in his bones.

He was stiff. He felt wrong. It was so rare that playing songs, performing in front of their fans, didn't calm him down. Initially, when there was no one to shout the words back at him, telling him he wasn't alone, it had been more common that he would walk of stage still feeling like his lungs weren't working properly, unable to take in enough air. But now he was the one telling them that it was okay to feel like that, and they would return that, and it was enough to stop this. But, for some reason, right now it wasn't.

Now it wasn't, and Tyler didn't know what to do. He wasn't used to this anymore. He didn't know how to deal with this when it wasn't by playing music.

He gave Josh a tired smile, and told him that he wasn't feeling up to meeting people after the show that night. "I'm just feeling tired," he said, forcing himself to laugh, as though it was a joke. Josh joined in slightly, gave him a hug before he pulled on his beanie and went out into the cold.

It was true. He was feeling tired, just not the kind of tired that sleep could help. It was the kind of tired that pulled itself together with panic, like after hours of trudging through the woods in the dark. He wanted to collapse, to stop moving and thinking, but he knew that would only end up with the bad thoughts that had inspired most of his songs creeping up on him.

He lay down in his bunk anyway, eyes open and pointed firmly at the ceiling of the cramped place. The curtains were closed and he hadn't bothered to turn on any lights, so people would assume he was asleep. He heard the door of the tour bus open, Josh and Mark and whoever else coming back in. They spoke quietly for a few minutes, then everyone went to their bunks, apart from Josh.

Tyler could hear him, whisper-shouting his name. He wasn't quite sure if Josh knew he was awake and wanted him to come out, or if he just assumed Tyler had some sort of sixth sense when it came to Josh calling his name. He gave up after twenty seconds or so of waiting, crept into the bunk area quietly enough to avoid disturbing the others.

"Hey, Ty?" Josh asked. From the volume of his voice, Tyler could tell he was standing next to Tyler's bed, but he still didn't respond. Josh would assume he was asleep, give it up and go to bed himself.

Apparently, Tyler had misjudged. The curtains to his bunk were pushed to the side, just enough for Josh's face to poke forwards. "Mind if I join you?" It was courtesy. Josh was always allowed to sleep next to him, and he knew it, most days.

Tyler nodded anyway, tried to scooch along as much as he could, and Josh shuffled in next to him, having to lie with an arm curled around Tyler's waist and his mouth pressed close to Tyler's ear for him to fit. "Hey. You okay?" Josh asked.

Tyler wrapped his own arms around Josh. "Kinda. Not really."

"Wanna talk?" There was nothing to talk about. Sometimes he felt hollow or hopeless or broken, and there was nothing to talk about. He felt bad, and that was it.

"Not really." Josh rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down Tyler's side.

"Okay," he said, and Tyler was completely sure that this would be horrendously, painfully awkward with anyone else. He would feel too close, almost claustrophobic, and the silence would ring, probably end up being broken when one or the other eventually felt obligated to make small talk.

But this was Josh, and he could be silent or shouting and it would still be just as comfortable. This was Josh, and he loved music, needed music, but not as much as he loved and needed Josh. Josh calmed the ache in his bones better than any ivory keys or ukulele strings.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to prompt me [here](http://iktwabrokenbone.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
